


just hang with me and my weather

by margaeries



Category: Superstore (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Introspection, can't really think of any other appropriate tags?, nothing of note happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25714810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/margaeries/pseuds/margaeries
Summary: As she spent more time with him though, she realised that she had been missing something at work: a friend, a confidante.He ate her words up, those long lashes sweeping his cheeks as he held her gaze. He clearly needed a friend too, so she softened just a little.
Relationships: Adam Dubanowski/Amy Dubanowski, Amy Dubanowski/Jonah Simms
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	just hang with me and my weather

**Author's Note:**

> Set in early S1. Rose-Colored Boy by Paramore is such an Amy/Jonah S1 song, in my opinion.

She was pretty - beautiful, maybe. Her eyes were warm and her hair framed her lovely face. And she was soft and sensual, all curves and curlicues. It didn’t take him long to feel _something_.

When she spoke though, her tone told a different story; that her spark had been extinguished, by life or circumstance, or perhaps, someone. So he made it his mission every day to find just one moment where her eyes would light up. He had always been a people-pleaser, even as a child, and to the detriment of himself on more than one occasion. But making people smile was an instant dopamine hit, and selfishly, he needed some of that, too.

He remembered an ex at college telling him to stop trying so hard. _“The more you try, the less people give a shit, it comes off as desperate.”_ Evan’s outlook on life had been a result of his bad-boy status at high school; he had sworn that even the teachers had been in awe of him. He could never quite believe that Evan had wanted him, that he had managed to catch the eye of someone like that. Their two-month fling had burnt out before the winter break of their second year, but Evan’s voice crept into his mind now and again, admonishing him for his pathetic need for people to like him.

The thing was, she made him want to try. It wasn’t that he thought of her as a puzzle or a mystery to be solved. He wanted to get to know her, sure: what did she like, what music did she listen to, and what did she dream of? Truly, he wanted to be her friend, even if a little voice at the back of his head tried to quietly insist that he felt something more.

And then she had spoken those words. _“I’m married.”_

He was sure his face had frozen in a “malfunctioning robot” kind-of way. How could he have been so stupid, so presumptuous, to assume that she would be unattached, just because he wanted her? She was smart, funny, and _yes, okay_ , not just pretty, but beautiful. Really, he shouldn’t have been so surprised that she wasn’t single. He felt the deadbolt slide over his heart, locked away that hope, let it fizzle out and focused on being a friend again. He could do friendship. He needed that, he needed a friend, and she would be a good friend to have.

It wasn’t his fault that every so often, his own stupid face would betray him. He couldn’t help that his eyes were always drawn to her, softening whenever they fell upon her face. How was he to blame for how often she made him smile, made him laugh? Even when she was teasing, even when she exasperated him with her stubbornness, he couldn’t help but melt.

In short, he was fucked. Every day, his infatuation became more apparent to the other associates and really, it was amazing that she seemed to have no clue herself. He wondered how long it could stay that way. He wondered what he would have to do to make it go away.

***

She wasn’t stupid, or blind. She could feel his eyes on her, see the way he followed her around most shifts like a lost puppy. Honestly, it was… a little flattering. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt attractive or wanted or desirable, and boy, did that explain so much. _(She could remember, actually – being eighteen and feeling like her body was in flames every time she kissed or touched or fucked.)_

So she humoured his little crush. He was respectful, never crossed any lines and was painfully overeager to please her, and so his attention didn’t make her uncomfortable. _(Well, maybe the sex doll had been a bit too much.)_ Still, he was no Sal, undressing women with his leer, or even Tate, with the wisecrack words and astronomical self-esteem.

Besides, he was kind of cute. He was delicate, a total pretty-boy, bright-eyed, shorter than Adam.

_Adam._

The name sank like a stone in the pit of her stomach. They’d had another heated discussion about money last night and she’d almost stormed out of the room, but then he had gotten to his knees, taken her hands and told her that they would get through this; that they always did, together. She would have preferred shouting, anger, _something_ , anything other than his plastic platitudes and dogged determination for things to stay the same.

Who was she kidding, though? She was _not_ the one to talk about change.

She was tired of being the nagging wife, the grouch, the _responsible_ one, while Adam got to be the fun parent, ever-free to try his hand at new things. Emma adored her dad, however, thought the stars shone in his eyes, and it was this fact that had always made her take pause. Adam was a good father, and that was going to have to be enough in the careful little world she had curated for them.

*

The next day in the break room, _he_ had waxed poetical about his awe of single mothers, and she’d thought, _really?_ _Is that how he sees me? A washed-up teen mom who couldn’t even get the baby daddy to stick around?_ She had appreciated the dumbstruck look on his panda face when she had stated that she was married – that ought to shut him up for a while.

As she spent more time with him though, she realised that she had been missing something at work: a friend, a confidante. She was under no illusion that she was popular. Sure, people liked her enough, and she could tentatively call Garrett a “work friend”, but until this college boy had breezed into her life, no one had really given her the listening ear she hadn’t known she so desperately needed. He ate her words up, those long lashes sweeping his cheeks as he held her gaze. He clearly needed a friend, too, so she softened just a little.

More often than not, he drove her crazy with his wide-eyed, naïve optimism, the way he slid snippets of his (rich and varied) life experiences into most conversations, and his unwavering ability to find the fun in their endless, mindless days. So they bickered and butted heads, but they’d always offer each other an olive branch at the end of the day (or in his case, an actual jar of olives). It was sweet, how thoughtful he was.

She ignored the fact that she had naturally started to look for him at the beginning of every shift they shared, gravitated towards him in the break room, and that occasionally, her guard came down and she allowed him to see the hole in her, the chasm where she had locked away Amy Sosa, the aspiring girl trapped beneath all of her adult responsibilities.

Some days, she looked at Cheyenne ( _more of a little sister than a friend, really_ ) and wanted to scream _“run, run, run, don’t do this, you don’t have to do this!”_ at her sweet face. Some days, the girl reminded her of herself so much that it hurt to see history play itself out again so cruelly. Other days, she saw how content Chey seemed to be, and that was when the scream turned inwards.

The only thing that would quieten the scream was going home and seeing her daughter doing homework at the kitchen table, reading a book with her legs curled underneath her on the couch, her delicate and even breathing as she slept peacefully in her bed. In those moments, her heart would clench so hard that there was no room for anything else. Emma was everything, the most important thing in her life, and this at least, she had not messed up yet; her proudest achievement. So she’d go to bed, Adam snoring obliviously next to her, and she’d try to remind herself that he had stayed and he had committed to her and they had made this life together.

For now, it was enough to get her through another day. It had to be.

**Author's Note:**

> I only know how to write introspective character studies, apparently. But I binge-watched all seasons of this show back in June and I can’t get these two out of my head. I’m trying to get a handle on the characters, because there’s so much I want to write for them; they basically live with me permanently now. This is probably too drama-filled and emotional for a sitcom, but I'm not ready to flex my comedy muscles quite yet.


End file.
